Tangled Up In You
by TessaStarDean
Summary: A series of John/Elizabeth drabbles for the drabble365days challenge. They should be between 100 and 300 words, though I can become long-winded at times, and other characters may be featured here and there.
1. somehow, sundown

The moonlight caught in her eyes, and it almost broke him.

Neither of them did vulnerable well. It was messy, and it was awkward, and they both preferred to keep it in a small box they could lock up and shove in the back of the closet. As carefully constructed as it was, though, the box was made of papier-mâché and scotch tape, and it wasn't worth a damn.

She fought with words, and he spoke in bullets.

It was fading now - the moonlight, her eyes. He couldn't harness the moon to make it stop its passage, or carry her with the light. He couldn't leave her there alone, though.

He stepped into the shadows.


	2. drowning in open sky

Elizabeth Weir maintained that, if he had just kept his damn lips to himself, none of this would have happened. They would have continued on with their flirtatious banter, and life would have gone on as usual.

But John Sheppard was always one to get into trouble.

Now his tongue was in her mouth and her hands were in his hair, and Elizabeth hadn't realized how much drowning felt like flying. Her lungs screamed for air and her body ached for him -

_Maybe I can just get him out of my system_, she thought.

Of course, he chose that moment to pull back, chest heaving as he sucked in air and wildly searched her eyes. What she saw there made her tremble, and she dragged his mouth back to hers so that he wouldn't see her shake.

_Too late_, her heart whispered.


	3. burning light inside my soul

In his dreams, they danced.

He hadn't danced since his wedding, and that had only been at Nancy's demand. But he couldn't deny that he had thought of dancing with Elizabeth more than once, her body pressed against his as he breathed her in.

He'd never get that chance now.

But in his dreams, they danced. On the balcony, the city shining against the darkness behind them. Sometimes he could hear music, and he would rest his mouth against her ear and just hum, feeling her lips quirk up against his skin. They moved slowly, but with intention, fingers twined and bodies sharing heat.

He wondered if he'd find his dreams in the stars.


	4. shatter

It should have been one of those times he almost died.

He could see the cracks in her armor. Every time his team came back later than scheduled, or walked through the gate dirty and beaten, her hands would shake just a little more. Sometimes she would search his eyes desperately, reassuring herself that he was really there. Other times, her gaze would rest somewhere just over his left shoulder as she ordered them to the infirmary, and he would watch her go back to the confines of her office, shoulders tense and screaming. Seeing her in pain was like getting punched to the stomach, and it was getting harder and harder to bite his tongue and still his hands. Eventually, one of them would break.

But that wasn't how it happened.

A simple goodnight, on a balcony that had come to belong to them alone. He wasn't sure if there was exhaustion or some other useless excuse to blame - he didn't care. She was laughing - a rare moment when her shoulders relaxed and her guard was down - and he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Her laughter faded, but the walls stayed down, and she stared at him for a moment before reaching up and brushing her lips against his.

He broke.


	5. hold me together

Her fingers traced over the cover, letting the texture of it soak through her skin. Paper and bound books were a rarity on Atlantis, and she hadn't realized just how much she had missed them. The coarse animal hide felt more real than most of the things she touched during her day, and she wanted to hug it to her chest and never let it go.

"Happy birthday."

"I used to keep one of these," she murmured, still staring at the gift in her hands. "I'd try to write in it every day...I don't remember why I stopped." She looked up then, eyes searching his. "Thank you, John."

He shrugged. "Just promise to write nice things about me once in awhile, okay?"

A smirk tugged at her lips. "When you deserve it," she teased.

He grinned at her. "Fair enough."

She wondered when this man had gotten to know her so well, how he always gave her just what she needed, even when she didn't know what that was.

"Maybe next year you could get me a pen."

His smile widened, and he held up an ordinary pen with a badly curled ribbon tied around it. Laughing, unable to help herself, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. It caught him off-guard, just like it always did, and it took him a few seconds to recover. But then his arms were holding her, his face pressed to the top of her head.

"Happy birthday, 'Lizabeth," he repeated, his voice rough around the edges.

She just held him tighter.


	6. yesterday is gone, tomorrow's bleeding

His head rested in her lap as she leaned back against the rough bark of the tree. The night sky above them was partially obscured by branches, but she could still see the stars, and she let them comfort her as best they could. Her fingers ran through his hair almost without thought, and she wished that he was conscious - his voice always soothed her, even if he wasn't saying anything important.

She knew that rescue was coming - whether it would get to them in time or not was another question entirely. Forcing that thought out of her mind, she swallowed hard and looked down at John for a moment before looking back up at the sky.

"Have you ever been to Rome?" she asked, her voice hushed in the stillness. She smiled. "I think you'd really like it there. There's so much to see, you don't even know where to look first. And the food..." Her mind drifted, playing out a scene where they walked through the streets, her arm linked with his, the heat of his body soaking through her skin.

"We could go," she whispered. "Just you and me. The next time we go back to Earth, I'll take you, okay?"

It was only the wind through the trees that answered.


	7. anchor me to shore

He slept soundly, carried gently by the lullaby of Carson's meds. She perched herself on the edge of the bed, unable to stand the space between them. Reaching out, she ran her fingers through his hair before tracing the lines of his forehead.

He stirred slightly, his hand somehow catching hers through closed lids and the foggy haze of painkillers.

"Liz?" he croaked, his voice pained and longing.

She didn't think he realized it, but he always called her that after a close call that landed him in the infirmary overnight. The feeling behind that one syllable - and everything lay beyond it - made her heart flip and lodge itself in her throat.

"I'm right here," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"Stay?"

It was the one request they never made. She stared at him - the crease on his forehead as he waited for her answer, the light stubble covering his jaw - and she understood why they had avoided it.

"Always," she whispered hoarsely.

The tension eased out of him, and he floated once again, anchored now by the feel of her skin against his.


	8. cat's in the cradle

It was the first song he ever learned how to play, and the sharp tang of regret that it brought him every time was enough to keep him from strumming out the melody for a long time.

But as he stared at the little boy in the crib - _his_ little boy - he had no choice but to pick up the guitar and play, his voice rough and hushed in the stillness of the room. Each word of the song tried to stick in his throat, bringing back memories of a childhood he'd rather leave far behind him.

He knew that there would be times when his job kept him from being a father. But he never wanted it to be like it had been for him and his dad. The missed chances and missed birthdays turning into a bitterness that bred a hateful silence and misunderstood pain.

He would know his son, dammit. And there wasn't anything in this galaxy or any other one that could keep him from that.

As the last note faded out, there was a quiet step behind him and then a gentle hand in his hair as Elizabeth leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

"You're so good with him," she whispered.

He leaned his head against her body and they watched their son sleep.


	9. keep dodging lights

Her voice echoed in his dreams. It woke him from a fitful sleep, dragging him from his bed. He wandered through the city, unable to resist comparing it to a ghost town as his footsteps sounded down the empty hallways. It was a painfully fitting description – they had lost too many, and he still ached when he thought of her.

He wasn't good at letting go.

* * *

His voice echoed in her dreams. Not that she was too sure of the difference between waking and sleeping now. He was an anchor now, just like he always had been. She clung to him, unabashedly using him as her lifeline as she fought her way through this place. She would find him, save him the way he had saved her so many times before.

She wasn't good at letting go.


	10. he's the air i would kill to breathe

The knock on her door didn't really surprise her. Her walls had been hastily constructed, but she had managed to keep them all at bay for a time. She knew they wouldn't hold forever, though, and it was better to let them in the door rather than make them tear through the walls.

She had expected Carson. When she saw John idly leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and understanding in his eyes, she knew she didn't stand a chance.

He didn't ask, and she didn't offer. He just stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

She tried – she really did. Shoulders straightened and a weak smile on her face, she fought back the tears. "John –"

He nodded. "I know." Stepping closer, right through every wall – even the ones she'd spent years building – he reached out and ran one finger along her knuckles. "Missed you," he whispered, his voice ragged and pained. The admission seemed to startle him slightly, but he didn't take them back, didn't pull away.

A tear slid down her cheek, searing a path across her skin. Her fingers caught his, joining, entwining, lying between their bodies. His head was bowed, and he brushed his nose against the side of her face, forcing her grip on him to tighten.

She hadn't breathed since they left Atlantis.

She didn't breathe again until he kissed her and stole the air from her lungs.


	11. since this storyline began

**A/N: This is part of a longer fic I'd eventually like to write. Basically, John and Elizabeth were shot with some kind of toy McKay was playing with, and they've been jumping around alternate realities ever since.**

* * *

He knew she was there without even opening his eyes. Her body was warm and pressed up against him, his arms wrapped around her tightly. His nose buried in her hair, he breathed her in deeply, letting himself relax.

Jumping from dimension to dimension - _realities_, McKay would call them – was seriously screwing with his head. He wasn't sure if they'd been gone for days or months, or where they would end up next. At least Elizabeth was stuck jumping with him – sometimes her presence was the only thing holding him together.

And she was his, in this world. They'd been lovers, friends, strangers, and everything in between. Each reality gave them a different story, and some were easier to bear than others.

He knew they'd have to get up soon and figure out where they were this time. But he was warm, and he was comfortable. Elizabeth was his – for the time being, at least – and he wasn't quite ready to let that go. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but the realities where they were together were his favorites.

Burying his face in her neck once more, he held her tighter and drifted back to sleep.


	12. on solid ground with shaky hands

In the space of a few hours, he had watched most of his life disappear. It had been given back, yes, but that didn't mean he was going to sleep any better. A man couldn't escape the ghost of his own mortality so easily.

He found her in an empty jumper bay, sitting with her back against the wall as she stared out over the dark water. For a minute he watched her, the stars giving him just enough light to make out her features.

Stepping forward quietly, he walked over to join her. She gave him a tight smile as he lowered himself to the floor, and then moved her eyes back to the water.

"You've been avoiding me," he teased, trying to keep his voice light.

He saw her stiffen and knew that he had failed. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice almost raw. They both knew she wasn't talking about her absence. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Physically? Never better." He paused. "I'm sure there's a whole thing here about mortality and seeing things differently and not wasting any more time. I'm not really a big talker, though."

The corner of her mouth tugged upwards. "A man of action."

John chuckled quietly. "Something like that."

His left hand reached out, hesitantly searching her out in the darkness. Elizabeth turned to look at him, questions heavy in her eyes. But she met him halfway, their fingers tangling naturally. A silent sigh escaped him, and she leaned into him a little, feeling the tension ease out of his body.

"We'll be okay," he whispered.

She thought maybe he was right.


	13. tearing down walls with bloody fists

They were supposed to be allies. They had exchanged gifts and flowery speeches, and everything had been just hunky-dory.

Until the bastards turned around and kidnapped Elizabeth.

Which was how he ended up with an ax - a fucking ax - trying to break down a door. He could hear fighting down the hall, knew that Lorne and Ronon were holding off the guards. He just needed to get through this damn door.

His heart pounded as the wood splintered. He didn't know if Elizabeth was in there alone, or what they had done to her...He shook his head and gritted his teeth. He'd put the ax right through anyone touching her.

When the door finally crashed open, John burst into the room, weapon held high.

Elizabeth stood in the center of the cell, one hand chained to a table. A single guard lay unconscious at her feet, and she fixed John with her patented stare.

"An ax? Really?"

He pointed to the guard. "Care to explain?"

She shrugged, somehow looking regal even as a prisoner. "He had the unfortunate misconception that he could have whatever he wanted."

The implications of that made him wince inside, but he gave her a cheeky grin. "Well hopefully he's learned the error of his ways." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "We're escaping. Wanna come?"

Elizabeth gave him a soft smile, and his stomach lurched when he realized how much he wanted to fold her up in his arms.

"I'd love to."


	14. hymn for the missing

He wasn't coming back from this one. It wasn't a thought he could really put into words, but there was a part of him that knew it with a weighted certainty.

He would live, and maybe that was the worst part. He would live, and his life would move on. There would be a new leader, a new mission, new people to weave themselves in and out of his story.

But none of them would be her.

It might have been easier if she had died. He hated himself for even thinking that, but he couldn't help it. If she was gone, a part of him would die with her, and it would be an emptiness he'd carry with him to his own grave.

She was out there, though. She was out there, and he couldn't save her. Every day, every hour, every minute was rank with his own failure. Every time he went off-world to fulfill another mission, it twisted the knife of betrayal even deeper, because he wasn't looking for her. It cut deeper and deeper, ripping through the most vulnerable parts of him.

Eventually, there'd be nothing left but a shell with his face and his memories.

He wondered if they'd even notice.


	15. there is a house built out of stone

It scared her when the glass shattered. She watched the tiny pieces shower down across the sink, the sound growing to a crashing roar inside her head. Even as her reflection burst into shards, her eyes moved down to her hand, following the rivulets of red as they snaked across her skin. For a moment, she couldn't figure out what she was looking at, her brain catching on the way the lights above her reflected in the blood sliding out of her.

"'Lizabeth?"

He was there in a heartbeat, by her side, holding her hand as he pressed a towel to the cuts. It had only taken a heartbeat for her to almost lose him, and the simplicity of that connection ripped through her more deeply than the glass.

Something broke.

There were tiny shards in a sea around her, but she didn't hit a single one. His arms were around and under her as he cradled her to his chest, carrying her out of the room. She felt the bed sink down beneath his weight, and her fingers clutched at his shirt of their own volition, panic stealing the breath from her lungs.

"I've got you," he whispered. "Always got you, 'Lizabeth."

Her voice found her. "Just once," she said quietly, "I'd like to be the one that saves you."

He held her until her breathing evened out, falling in time with his own. Her grip never loosened, but the lines on her face eased, and he hoped that her sleep would be dreamless and free. John rubbed a hand up and down her arm slowly, before leaning in and kissing the top of her head.

"You already did," he murmured.


	16. proof of life

Carson had assured him that she was going to be okay, and he trusted Carson. It wasn't often that Elizabeth was in the infirmary, but whenever she was, the doctor dropped everything to be at her side.

John really did trust him.

He couldn't stop himself, though. His fingertips were already grazing her arm, sliding across her skin as he moved from her elbow down to her wrist. She was soft and warm, and when his fingers settled on her pulse point and he could feel the steady thrum of her heartbeat, his eyes closed.

She was alive, and the proof of it was thrumming beneath his touch.

Her eyes fluttered open then, and she stirred. "John?"

His hand somehow finished the journey to hers, fingers lacing together. "Hey."

She lifted her gaze to his forehead, frowning slightly as she fought the drugs in her system. "You okay?"

John used his free hand to gently touch the bandage, a reassuring smile on his face. "I'm fine." He swallowed hard before adding, "So are you."

She started to drift again, her nod barely discernible. "We're okay."

He nodded, fighting the urge to kiss her forehead. "Yeah, Liz. We're okay."

She mumbled something he didn't quite catch. Lowering himself down into the chair Carson had left for him, John made himself comfortable. It wasn't long before he fell asleep too, the feel of her hand in his the only thing he could be sure of.


	17. streets lined with jagged glass

She was cold.

That was enough to make her eyes snap open. It had been so long since she'd felt anything at all - she thought she simply couldn't anymore.

She was most definitely cold, though. It seeped from the floor, through hr clothes, seeming to take up permanent residence in her bones. She began to shake the movement beginning in her shoulders and taking over the rest of her body.

It took her a good deal longer to notice anything else - like the fact that she was alone. Not just in the room, either. There was a quiet inside of her that she hadn't felt since before the nanites invaded her body, and a surge of hope coursed through her veins. Digging deeper, she felt around for the alien presence, but it wasn't there.

They were finally gone.

The cold slowly subsided, and she pushed herself to her knees, the room spinning just a little. Her memories were jagged, and there were some missing, but one image weighed heavily before her eyes. A familiar face, whose eyes had been an anchor for her in the worst of times. They were pained now, haunted. But she could remember better times.

Her legs were shaky, but they held, and she turned toward the door. She may have been alone, but she had a home, and she thought that maybe now she could finally find her way back there.

She walked out and never looked back.


	18. needing you is like falling through

It was the way she looked at him.

He knew Elizabeth. He could read her. But he was used to the way she threw up her defenses, keeping her eyes guarded even as the world crashed around them. Her voice would be steady, and her shoulders straight and tall - it was the facade she put on for everyone to see, and it was usually the only thing that kept him from dragging her into his arms.

It wasn't there this time. He had found her on the balcony - it wasn't even itheir/i balcony, but he had somehow known where she would be - and stood right beside her, shoulders almost whispering as they met. She took a deep breath and he imagined the walls were going back up, but when she turned her head, he realized that they had been falling instead of building. For the first time since he had met her, John knew he was seeing iElizabeth/i.

And she needed him.

His nose bumped against her cheek, but then his lips were moving over hers slowly. This close, he could feel her tremble, and the hand that came up to grip his collar was shaking, Her hold was firm, though, and as the kiss continued, she matched him eagerly. His hands snaked around her waist, pulling her body completely against his as he slid his tongue into her mouth.

He wouldn't have pulled back if he hadn't needed to breathe, and as it was, he waited until the last second before letting his mouth leave hers. She didn't leave his arms, and that surprised him; instead, she pressed her nose against the side of his face.

"Thank you," she murmured.

That wasn't the response he was expecting, and he wasn't sure whether it gave hope or disappointed.

"I'm happy to help any time you need a kiss, 'Lizabeth," he said, smirking at her despite the worry eating away at his insides.

She blushed a little. "I'm afraid I could be quite demanding."

He knew which side of the coin that fell on, and his smirk grew into a broad smile.

"I serve at the pleasure of the leader of Atlantis," he murmured, kissing her again.


	19. no sweeping exits

He couldn't take the look in her eyes - eyes that looked at him with the same gentle concern Elizabeth always had - as the tears filled his eyes and he whispered, "I couldn't save her."


	20. i'd lose my life for yours

"You're a fool," she hissed.

John frowned. "Saving you was foolish? Elizabeth, that doesn't make any sense."

"You could have been killed."

"iYou/i could have been killed," he countered.

She didn't have anything to say to that. Sniffing, forcing her tears back at gunpoint, she focused on the wound in front of her instead. The wound caused by a bullet that had been meant for her heart. A bullet that had grazed John's arm as he threw himself in front of her, taking them both to the ground.

"You're a fool," she repeated, her voice shaky and devoid of heat.

John nodded and leaned his forehead against hers.

"I know," he whispered.


	21. 30 Seconds

_one_

he stepped into the room.

_two_

she shouldn't have been there. he had left her. abandoned her. she was gone. she took his breath away.

_three_

she smiled at him.

_four, five, six_

he couldn't breathe. his chest tightened. his throat tightened. his jaw refused to do anything but hang open, useless. a million things ran through his mind and not a single one made sense. everything hurt and everything was okay and he just wanted to touch her.

_seven_

he drew in a ragged breath.

_eight_

"john," she whispered.

_nine, ten, eleven, twelve_

he closed his eyes. salty tears burned behind the lids, building at the edges as though they planned a mass exodus. he didn't deserve this. he didn't deserve her. she should be yelling, screaming, punching, raving. there should be stone cold silence. an empty abyss between. a hollow pain in her voice that dug all the way to the core. she should have spat in his face. she should have slapped him. she should have -

_thirteen, fourteen_

she touched him. her hands impossibly warm, pressed against his skin, sinking into him. thumbs brushed over his cheekbones as though she were committing the expanse to memory. as though he were a lifeline. something to hold onto. something she had held onto. the one thing that had kept her sane when he was the only reason she was on the brink in the first place.

_fifteen_

"john," she whispered.

_sixteen, seventeen, eighteen_

he opened his eyes and found that she was right there. she shared the air between them. every exhale was her inhale and the other was the only reason they could breathe. it moved between them, through them, around them. it held them up. it held them together. it held.

_nineteen_

"'lizabeth." his voice was dry and broken. cracked along the edges. burnt and raw and sandpaper. pain and desperation and the hope that could destroy him if she walked away.

_twenty_

she understood. just like she always did. her bottom lip trembled and her body shook and he reached up to hold her hands to him. if she let go now, there would be nothing left to bury.

_twenty-one, twenty-two_

she was soft. warm. strong. even as she swayed in the wind, she was his foundation, everlasting, triumphant. nothing could touch him while she held him. his shoulders slumped as something inside of him let go and he leaned forward, his forehead against hers -

_twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five_

she sighed into him, against him, because of him. her eyes slid shut and she turned her head, just enough so that their skin slid against each other, the feeling jolting through them both. her fingers tightened around his own, her nails trailing down his face, the sensation weakening his knees.

_twenty-six_

"john."

_twenty-seven_

he swallowed, painful, relieving. it burned, but no more than the words scratching out of his chest.

_twenty-eight_

"you're here."

_twenty-nine_

her forehead slid along the side of his face as she molded herself into him, letting him encompass her, her safety net with newly-patched holes.

_thirty_

"i'm home."


End file.
